


Girl Talk

by FreezingKaiju, FrenchScreaming



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingKaiju/pseuds/FreezingKaiju, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchScreaming/pseuds/FrenchScreaming
Summary: Mikan comes back to her dorm after an especially difficult day, but the comfort she seeks doesn't quiet work out. Chiaki thankfully steps in before things completely spiral out of control
Relationships: Nanami Chiaki/Tsumiki Mikan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Trans Mikan deserves more love

It was with a cold and clammy hand that Mikan used to open the door to her shabby dorm. A deep feeling of uncomfortableness, fear and sadness wrecking her body that she only barely managed to hide. Though she was doing a pretty bad job, the slight stagger in her step and tremble in her grip were pretty dead giveaways of her nervousness. Still, Mikan was glad she hadn’t been reduced to a panicked puddle of gross emotions like she was so usually prone to. So, yeah, a step up.

Opening the door Mikan can hear the electronic sounds of some game going on in the room, wincing just a bit at the sudden change in volume. She inhaled sharply, bracing herself to just make it through the room in one piece without looking like a total mess.

Dim lights, the dulled sound of video games and smell of ramen cups and sterilizer that told her this was still her dorm. Her mouth twitched in a grimace as she closed the door behind her. She never did like how the hinges sounded, but there was no helping that she supposed.

And there, on the uncomfortable leather couch they had salvaged, no doubt several hours into her latest game of something or whatnot, was her roommate. She didn’t look up; some part of Mikan was glad she didn’t see her pathetic face, her hideous attempt at makeup. Another part wanted to grab her by the shoulders and scream  _ LOOK AT ME!  _

It was Chiaki Nanami.  _ The  _ Chiaki Nanami.

Gamer. Class rep. Complete beauty, utterly stunning. And fellow trans girl.

_ A REAL trans girl _ , Mikan’s self loathing pounded itself against her skull like a mallet.  _ I probably don’t count. Probably just pretending, a caricature really, wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, copycat, a what-ever-the-fuck freak. I just want to be special. To be included. For some worthless, pathetic reminder that I matter. Which I never will. _

The bitter train of thoughts seeped into the background of her focus as Mikan dragged herself towards her room. She thought about saying something to Nanami but decided against it, there were probably a billion reasons why but really she just wanted the distance between them to be physical as well. She couldn’t bear to interact with Chiaki like this.

She didn’t hate Chiaki, quite the opposite actually. Mikan practically adored her with every fiber of her being, she could go on and on about positive qualities Chiaki possessed. And it was that same admiration that stung so badly. That made it hurt so much worse.

Mikan had never been the jealous type, really, she had been content with her inadequacy. It wasn’t until she realized how beautiful Chiaki was and how she just existed so seamlessly with being trans that Mikan felt true envy for the first time in her life. A pure, heart-damaging jealousy that occurred when Mikan realized she was looking at everything she wanted to be and wasn’t. And it hurt, but she wasn’t upset. She would never blame Chiaki for living the life she wanted. Rather, she hated herself for not being as good as her. Hell, there was no doubt when looking at Chiaki that she was a girl, and here Mikan was still shoving water balloons down her shirt to try and play the part. Why couldn’t she be anywhere near as good as her?

_ Everyone’s different _ . But they were both at the same point in their life, and Nothing like each other.  _ She’s just lucky. _ Maybe, but luck could only do so much and Mikan knew Chiaki put in the necessary work and then some.  _ You shouldn’t be hard on yourself. _ She probably wouldn’t if she wasn’t so pathetic. Chiaki’s previous reassurances did nothing as they bounced around in her head. 

Still, maybe there was something to be done. Being a useless husk of self pity didn’t help anyone. Maybe...just maybe she could fix some of this. Yeah...she always did like dressing up. And, Ibuki had just given her some of her old makeup to try out. It sucked, but maybe she could pull herself out of this mood, just so people wouldn’t have to deal with her depressive nature if nothing else.

Taking a deep breath to delude herself into a sense of calm, Mikan went about her room gathering her supplies. She managed to collect herself somewhat as she went through the motions. Pink sweater. Flowery skirt. Eyeliner. Lipstick, purple. Blush. Three different things Mikan didn’t even know the names of. But she knew they went on her face. They weren’t the colors she’d typically associate with but then again who was she to have standards.

Taking the pile in hand, she shuffled to the bathroom with a half-hearted hope of maybe being okay for just a little bit longer.

Door open, door close. Chiaki’s eyes burned at the back of her head. She tried not to let that get to her. It was futile. Everything gets to her. Ignore it ignore it ignore-

With a huff and bite of her tongue, Mikan found herself in the bathroom. Arms full of clothes and makeup. Remembering her purpose, she set about in a somewhat upbeat manner changing. Depression still hung to her with an unbreakable grip, but there was a small spark of undeniable joy she always got when changing something about herself. The smallest sliver of freedom of being anyone other than the person she was five minutes ago. Oh god the misery practically felt palpable when she did this.

And sure enough. Putting the finishing touches on, tugging the outfit here and there, making sure the lipstick was correct. She could not help but see just herself looking back in the mirror.

Looking in the mirror showed the same, gross, disgusting, ugly, familiar face she hated. The one she could never get rid of. The same sharp chin and prominent jawline, lurking scars, smile that belonged on a C-grade slasher. All accented by makeup like a sultry clown who couldn’t even commit. dressed up in clothes that clearly weren’t made for someone like  _ her. _

It looked wrong in every sense. Every part of it. None of what she had on was made for her. It wasn’t even close. She could only describe what she saw as the most textbook definition of wrong. Pitiable personified. 

Looking in the mirror, Mikan saw a man. One of the grossest men she knew. The way their face contorted to hold back tears just made it worse. Everything made it worse. Everything was awful. 

  
  


Chiaki wasn’t an idiot. Despite what some people believed, she invested quite a few points into her perception stat. Even when focusing hard on her no-hit dark souls 3 run, she noticed Mikan come in sadder than usual. And how she’s been in the bathroom a concerningly long time.

It usually took a serious issue to do this, a tragically upset Mikan wasn’t unheard of. But Chiaki would feel like a real shitty friend if she turned her back everytime Mikan had a bad day. 

She moved carefully to the bathroom door, keeping an ear out for any indicative noises. She trusted Mikan to stay safe, but one could never be too worried.

There were, as it turned out, indicative noises; the kind most would call ‘very loud sobbing’, perhaps even ‘wailing’. 

She took a deep breath, “Mikan?” Her voice came out hoarse, she coughed, cleared her throat and tried again, knocking as well. “Mikan-chan? Hey is uh, something wrong? Are you okay?” She pressed an ear to the door, listening to the stifling of tears. It felt like this was an especially bad time.

It took a good minute for Mikan to come up with a coherent response. Her voice dripped with misery, with revulsion, with no small sense of fear. Chiaki was familiar with Mikan’s bad moods, with her panic attacks, but this was... something else. “I-I’m... I’m  _ disgusting _ .” 

Chiaki clicked her tongue, expression twisting in worry and understanding. She tried thinking of a response, what did Mikan need right now? She settled on taking things one step at a time.

“Is it alright if I come in?” She asked softly. 

One loud, pained word from Mikan was the response, yet it carried an endgame-boss level of pain for the gamer: 

  
“W _ hy?! _ ”

“Because...” Chiaki fumbled her words, sought for something coherent, something that’d matter, that’d give Mikan a bit of hope. “Because...Mikan-chan, you know I care about you...”

No response, at first. The seconds drew on, five then ten, fifteen, soon near into a minute of silence draw on and Chiaki thinks she blew it.

And then the lock clicked, the door creaking open, just a little.

Chiaki enters the bathroom slowly, she sees the bundle of clothes on the floor and the makeup on the counter and most of all Mikan’s face wrought with tears. The girl barely holding herself up on the counter, but being unable to look at the mirror.

She held herself back from throwing herself onto Mikan, that’d scare her. Instead Chiaki moved up to her, and slowly, brought her arms to her sides and wrapped her in a hug.

It was wordless, just the two of them. Just the two of them, in a cluttered dorm bathroom. One holding the other. And after a good moment Mikan returned the gesture, clinging to Chiaki as if she were a lifeline. Body still shuddering and heaving with dying sobs as her feelings bled out. Chiaki could tell she was loosening up a bit now that she wasn’t holding herself up alone.

They both stood there unmoving for quite some time, Chiaki rubbing Mikan’s back in comfort as the girl wept herself to a sore throat. And even then, when Chiaki’s arms grew tired and Mikan fell silent, the two didn’t move, holding each other and swaying slightly in the dim light of the bathroom they had.

“Hey...are you feeling better now?” Chiaki whispered, and despite her gentle voice the break in silence is still undeniably a little jarring. Instead of giving a verbal response Mikan just nods, a gesture difficult to see from Chiaki’s point of view, but just feeling Mikan let’s her know.

“Let’s maybe sit down.” Chiaki offers, carefully and cautiously taking a step back. Neither’s arms ever letting go, but their grips do go slack as a space was allowed to grow between them. With Mikan still misty-eyed, she hung around Chiaki’s shoulders and her with an arm around Mikan’s hip, the two made their way to the couch. Mikan instantly dissolving onto it like a liquid when they sit down, leaning into Chiaki. She sniffles, but her expression was dry of any emotion, having cried herself to exhaustion. And the gamer was more than alright letting her shoulder be a kleenex for the girl.

As Chiaki ran her fingers through Mikan's uneven hair, the nurse opened her mouth and decided to speak once more. The makeup rolled down her face with her tears, stained Chiaki's shirt. Chiaki didn't mind. She was here to listen, here for Mikan.

"...I'm, I-I... I'm n-not  _ really  _ a girl, am I? I, I know I'm not, not like you, n-not really," she rambled, voice cracking and pitching up and down, "I-I'm disgusting! I'm h-horrible, masculine, creepy, hideous... No matter how much I want it, I d-d-don't  _ deserve  _ to be a girl!"

And Chiaki's heart shattered. Hurting more than she thought it could.

Chiaki sometimes wishes there were dialogue options in real life to help her know what to say. Just another one of the many luxurious life lacked.

She continues to run her hand through Mikan’s hair, gathering her thoughts in order to not fuck this up.

“It’s okay.” She starts, “You are a girl...and you’re you, Mikan. Not me.” She spoke in the softest tone she knew. As if the slightest bit of carelessness would shatter Mikan like glass.

“I think you look pretty.” She says honestly, her chest bubbling with feelings of uncertainty. She wasn’t sure what she was saying, but now words were just starting to spill out of her.

“I think you look really pretty.” She said, taking in a deep breath. She stopped petting Mikan for a moment, but never let go, instead beginning to play with her hair out of habit.

“I tell Sonia about it sometimes, how...I like your face and all...and when I see a cute outfit I think you’d like, I always wanna see you in it. I think you’re cute. Honestly.” Chiaki felt uneasy now, what was she saying, she probably sounds weird and possibly self centered? She tentatively looked at Mikan to see her reaction.

Mikan shuddered, tears drying more from shock than from comfort...but it was an intense comfort. She whimpered, hands gripping tight, bringing her eyes back up to Chiaki's and met them. And Chiaki could see she was right; despite the running makeup, despite her distress, Mikan is gorgeous. Just as she always knew.

"...Y-you...A-are you sure, you'd, you'd w-waste thoughts like that, a-admiration, on...on me?"

“It’s not a waste if it's you.” Chiaki says without a second though, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’ve always thought that...that you’re nice...and pretty...and all that.” She could feel bits of embarrassment flick across her mind. But the way Mikan looked at her so reverently, with so much love and emotion, the embarrassment quickly became a second thought at most. She was going to say something more but the words caught in her throat looking at Mikan. 

She could tell Mikan had the same thought, the intent to speak falling apart upon each other's gaze. No matter how many times Chiaki saw Mikan in her day to day life, she was always caught a little off guard by how pretty she was. And though she didn't know, Mikan had a similar experience, being constantly astounded by her. It was of the many things they shared, knowingly or otherwise. 

And while Chiaki tried a few more times to see if Mikan was up for a conversation, the two soon fell into the soothing motion of resting against each other on the couch. Together, finding more comfort in each other than they had any right to find, as if they were simply meant to be together. Chiaki idly played with Mikan’s hair as the girl listened to her heartbeat. 

And together the two found peace together. 


End file.
